First Cross Country Race, 7.5k - Dec 2012

Cross Country

December 2012

During the winter months Tri Sport Epping, my Triathlon club, enters the East Essex Cross Country League, and encourage all members to race in the 5 race series. So mid December I found myself heading off to Dunton at 7 in the morning, Anne and Rhiannon in tow, for my first cross country race since childhood.

I met the club runners, and looked at the huge variety of gear they were using. Long leggings, short leggings. All sorts of things. Headgear too. So I decided, much to Rhiannon’s amusement, to go for usual running shorts, running T shirt and the club running singlet over that, plus gloves, plus my snood. It was a definite 2 layer jobby.

Bit nippy to start with, but within 100m I had realised/remembered 4 things.

1. I was wearing exactly the right gear to be comfortable temperature wise.
2. I don’t like cross country when you have to run through mud and pools of standing water
3. People buy specialist cross country shoes for a reason
4. Drinking to excess on both Wed and Fri eves was not the best preparation for this.

Still, could have been worse.

I ran through the pool of water at the first turn OK, unlike a teammate who went head first into it. It was at the bottom of a steepish run down to it, and he carried too much speed.

Anyway, the legs started to come back, and barring the fact that my feet were slipping on every stride it was OK. My pace was fine. Then a blonde bombshell in her 20s ran past. Mr H was not happy, so upped the pace some more and overtook her. And promptly fell while turning at the next corner and sliding gracefully across the path.

Bad shoes. Up I get and carry on. Catch her up again, and decide that if I have to follow someone then she might as well be the one. We’re about halfway through this race now, and the recollection of drinking a second bottle of something with a mate at Bishopsgate Balls Bros comes flooding back. As does the fact that my legs are hurting.

And then it gets worse. I don’t mind too much that I’m hanging on to the BB because she’s early/mid 20s. But then a club runner runs past who has just celebrated her 60th. Right, suffering or no suffering, this just is not going to be allowed. I pick a tree in the distance and decide to up the pace to that tree and see what happens. What happened was that I got back to her shoulder. I rest, figuratively speaking. The the BB goes past again. I’m in a race! With 2 women, one almost old enough to be my mum, the other young enough to be my daughter. We have 2k to go, and I’m just behind the pair of them.

Being a typical male, I have to go past them by the finish no matter what. I know there is an incline coming, so decide to take it easy until that and then push. Right, we hit the bottom of it, and I accelerate. I go past them, and start to focus on a guy 50/100 m in front. My breathing gets laboured, but as I reach the top I can’t hear anybody around me so I am sure I’ve dropped them. I don’t look round to check, as the guy in front is from East Essex Tri, our great rivals. I push again, he gets a shout from a teammate close to the finish warning him I’m there. He can’t respond, so I take him on the line.

Jeez, I can’t breathe! And all that for finishing 114, out of 185.